


Closer

by brilligspoons



Series: Close, Closer, Closest [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, Fluff, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6268399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilligspoons/pseuds/brilligspoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eponine's had a bit of A Day and just wants a relaxing evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [within_a_dream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/gifts).



The flat smells of curry powder and fried onions when Eponine arrives home, and she breathes it in with relief. Grantaire cooking means two things: one, she doesn't have to feed herself (which, after the day she's had, is a goddamn miracle), and two, he's probably in a decent enough mood that he'll at least listen to her bizarre story without laughing too much. She peers around the corner and spies two bottles of red wine on the kitchen table.

"Oh, thank fuck," Eponine groans as she picks one up and twists the cap off. "I don't even care if you're saving these for something, this one's mine now." She takes a mouthful right from the bottle.

"Well, now I'm not," Grantaire says. "Jesus, you haven't even put your shit down. At least take your jacket off before you drink all my hard-earned booze."

"It's been a long fucking day. And you know you need to stop getting paid in vegetables and alcohol instead of money, right? We have to pay rent next week."

He waves a spatula in the air. "Food's up in five, if you think you can bring yourself to share and pour that into some glasses in the meantime."

"You're one to talk," she mutters, and takes another pull from the bottle just to spite him.

An hour later, they've decimated the entire pot of curried noodles and vegetables and most of the wine, and Grantaire has yet to laugh at anything Eponine's told him about her day. _It truly is a day of miracles,_ she thinks as she pours them both another glass.

"And you're sure Jehan wasn't, like, experimenting with the tea again, right?" he asks.

"I haven't even ordered any tea from him since the last time, let alone that blend," Eponine says. "No chance I was hallucinating, except for the part where she fucking appeared out of nowhere, fixed my shirt, moved the boxes inside, and then disappeared in front of my eyes."

Grantaire snorts. He leans forward and rests his chin on his hand and looks at her with a sly grin stretched across his face. "Was she pretty?" Eponine glares at him. "I know you've been hard up recently, maybe she's your brain's way of telling you to get laid—ow! No need to get violent."

"A bruised arm is the least you deserve, wretch," Eponine says. "But yes, if you must know, she was very pretty. If you're into blonde hair and blue eyes, that is." Grantaire's expression turns dreamy. She groans and stands up from the table. "I'm going to bed now. Try to keep your daydreaming about Enjolras to your own room this time."

The problem now is that Eponine wonders if Grantaire is right, not that she'd ever admit that out loud. She hasn't had a girlfriend or boyfriend in well over a year, and it's been almost as long since she last felt like taking anyone up on their offer of a night or two of fun. She rarely takes a day off work, and when she does it's to check in on her brothers and sister and make sure they're going to school and eating and bathing and such. Perhaps the girl really was just a figment of her imagination, her overtired brain telling her to take a break.

Resolving to request some time off, Eponine flops onto her bed and stares up at the ceiling. _Just a few days to myself,_ she thinks, _and then a few days to spend with Azelma and the boys. They'll like that._ She closes her eyes. When she opens them again, the girl is hovering over her. Eponine screams and rolls off the bed, landing on the floor hard.

A pair of feet appear in her line of sight, and she looks up. The girl smiles down at her. She's holding the rubber wedge in one of her perfect, pale hands.

"Sorry again," she says. She reaches out with her free hand. "Need some help?"

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic treat, day 2: a photo I took of a glass dress (part of an exhibit on tech fashion at the MFA)!


End file.
